


Three o'clock

by Merideath



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Banter, F/M, Failboats, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, insults as endearments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 18:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merideath/pseuds/Merideath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they first met months ago, she had just stepped out of Coulson's office and said, “It must be three o'clock,” in an overly dramatic voice as she slammed a stack of files on her desk and mocked an evil laugh. Steve had been standing in front of her desk, and he snorted loudly and lopsidedly grinned at her before he slipped into Coulson's office. They had been friends from that moment on—his dry humor meshing with her sarcasm. Just friends....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three o'clock

**Author's Note:**

> This is an utter fluff fest. I needed fluff and snark and mostly just fluff.
> 
> Emiliesroses prompted "You promised this time would be different..." And this is what my cracked brain came up with.

"You promised this time would be different," Darcy says and drops down in a chair, arms full with a Starkpad and folders. "You promised I wouldn't have to go through this again."

"I lied. Buck up, buttercup," Steve says dryly, handing her a paper cup of coffee with a plastic lid. 

God, she hates these meetings, but where Coulson goes she goes. "Ten bucks Fury kicks you all out of the meeting in twenty minutes."

"You think I'm stupid enough to take that bet?" Steve asks and takes a sip of his own cup as Darcy picks up hers. She grimaces at the bitter taste and they silently switch cups; his black coffee for her latte. "Tony's back."

"Hey, it was worth a shot. Hello, Tony," Darcy says offering a half-hearted wave. She looks across the table at the pastries piled high on round platters she knows have the SHIELD insignia on them. Morning meetings were so not her thing, but the breakfast supplied was worth it; nothing but the best for Avengers and Agents having suffered severe trauma and their plucky assistants. "Ooh, goodies."

Steve reaches out and plucks a cheese Danish, and drops it onto her plate, and she places a blueberry scone on his. Darcy glances up at Tony standing across from them slightly open-mouthed, looking from her to Steve and back again.

"Dude, what is wrong with Stark?" Darcy whispers and Steve shrugs, not bothering to look up from the muffin he is dissecting. It's then that Coulson shuffles into the room, perfectly on time, and the meeting begins.

........

Later that night Darcy heads to the tower on her way home. It isn't anywhere along the way, but the day was hell. She loves her job, but superheroes can be such prima donnas. Honestly she wasn’t sure anything was fantastic about Dr. Richards or Mr. Storm.

She grunts out a greeting to JARVIS and finds Steve lounging on the couch of one of the smaller entertainment rooms. His sketchbook is in his lap, pencil poised in the air above the heavy paper. He smiles up at her, warm and bright, until he sees the look on her face.

"Tough day at the office, doll?" Steve asks as she flops down on the couch beside him.

"The worst," Darcy murmurs, resting her head on Steve's shoulder and stifling a yawn.

"Tase anyone?" 

"No, Coulson said I wasn't allowed to tase a member of the Fantastic Four. It's all BS," Darcy whines. 

"You gonna stay for dinner? Stark ordered pizza, it'll be here soon. The good kind."

"Dude, how many times do I have to tell you anchovies are not the good kind. Double—”

"Cheese, pepperoni and extra jalapeños is," Steve finishes for her, adding a dramatic shudder of distaste. Darcy laughs and feels lighter as some of the day's stress washes away. He always manages to do that for her.

"Nah, I'm gonna head home. Tired," Darcy says, snuggling closer and yawning again. She can practically feel the worried look forming on Steve's face. Their friendship may be based on a warped sense of humour, but they do genuinely care for each other. She is pretty sure Steve is the best friend she’s ever had. 

"Captain Rogers, Miss Lewis, dinner has arrived and is in the main seating area."

"Thanks, JARVIS," Steve says, getting to his feet and ignoring Darcy's protest at the loss of her cushion. "Come on, Darce, eat with us and you can sleep in my spare room."

"Oh, can we have a pillow fight? And stay up late watching scary movies and painting each other’s nails?" Darcy grins and Steve rolls his eyes and drags her to her feet.

"We'll curl our hair and gossip about boys," Steve deadpans and she laughs.

"Carry me?" she pouts pathetically, making grabby hands. Steve sighs and throws her over his shoulder like a sack of grain and carries her into the main living area. He tosses her down on the enormous couch beside Natasha and Clint, who ignore them completely.

"Is someone going to tell me what the fuck is going on with Cap and Agent's assistant," Stark asks and Clint snorts.

"They have a thing," Clint says around a mouthful of pizza.

"A thing? Like a fucking thing?" Stark asks. "Is The Capsicle warming his dick on Agent Double D?"

"Fuck you, Stark," Steve and Darcy say in unison.

"You've been in California too long, Stark. You missed the whole Captain and the Girl with the Taser train wreck. They have this weird snarky friendship thing but really they don't know—" Clint says and Natasha cuts him off by muttering something in Russian. "I wasn't gonna say anything about them not knowing—fuck that hurts, Tasha."

 

"We don't know what?" Darcy asks with a frown. She glances at Steve and his eyebrows raise, jaw ticking. Darcy raises her own brows and he shakes his head slightly; he doesn't have a clue and neither does she. "Clint? Tasha? What don't we know? Why are you all looking at me like that?"

"Barton," Steve barks out in the rumbling tone of authority reserved for Captain America that always sends shivers down her spine.

"Nothing," Clint says.

"Try again, Hawkeye," Steve says and crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows drawn together as he frowns down at him. Captain America's Eyebrows of Disapproval (tm). Clint has no hope of getting around that look.

"Oh god, don't look at me that way. Fuck. Okay, okay. You and D don't know you're in love. Everyone sees it but you. There's a fuckin' betting pool," Clint says and Natasha swears in Russian, Mandarin, and something Darcy thinks might be from a sci-fi show.

"Wait, what?" Darcy splutters out when what Clint said finally registers in her brain. Tony mutters something as he looks down at the Starkpad in his hands. She looks up at Steve, his face devoid of any expression, but his ears are faintly tipped in pink. "You think...you bet on our...on us? But we're just friends."

"Denial isn't just a river in Egypt, sweet cheeks," Clint says and Stark whistles low, handing her the Starkpad. She looks down at the tablet in her hands, at the names of her friends, colleagues, and bosses. At the amount bet and date listed beside each name. 

The pot that is more money than she earns in a year. Barton, Coulson, Sitwell, Rodriguez from accounting, Jane, that scrawny kid Peter from the labs, Thor, and more names she recognizes from interoffice memos. Even Maria Hill's name is listed for $250. Darcy was convinced Hill had no heart to speak of and once had gone so far as to whisper 'christo' under her breath while in the same room. Nothing happened, though Coulson recommended salt and silver as a precaution.

It's too much for her to think about, and Darcy's vision goes blurry. She scrambles to find something to say and misses whatever Steve says when he takes the tablet out of her limp hands. She doesn't have to look to know he is wearing his Captain face again—jaw clenched tight, eyes glinting dangerously. 

The Starkpad makes a wrenching sound beneath his fingers and Darcy winces. The ones in the Avengers level are prototypes, tough enough for Thor to hurtle furious avians at chartreuse porcine. Her pulse thunders in her ears and thoughts crowd her head. 

"I need some air," she says and jumps to her feet and crosses out to the balcony. The night is cold and she gulps down fresh air, gripping the metal railing as tightly for fear she might stumble and fall. Her and Steve. In love. It's ridiculous. She loves him, but in love with her best friend? She's never been in love before, doesn't know what it feels like. 

"Darce?" Steve says quietly as he comes out onto the balcony and stands beside her, a carefully measured distance away, mirroring her grip on the tubular railing. There was never a distance before, and her belly twists in knots. 

He was just there joking with her, letting her curl up at his side, and laughing together at jokes nobody else got. She closes her eyes, thinks about Steve's smile that lights up his whole face and her answering smile when they talk every day. Her belly does a funny little flip. He is her friend. 

She glances down at her hands cold on the metal, and Steve slides his hand along the rail until his pinky finger crosses over hers. Such a simple thing, it shouldn't mean anything; they touch all the time, but it feels like more. Her skin tingles where they touch, and she shivers.

"Cold?" he asks. 

"No," Darcy answers, voice thick. She swallows hard and looks up and up to meet Steve's blue eyes. 

When they first met months ago, she had just stepped out of Coulson's office and said, “It must be three o'clock,” in an overly dramatic voice as she slammed a stack of files on her desk and mocked an evil laugh. Steve had been standing in front of her desk, and he snorted loudly and lopsidedly grinned at her before he slipped into Coulson's office. They had been friends from that moment on—his dry humor meshing with her sarcasm. Steve was –is—gorgeous, but he had been dating Beth at the time, and any thought of them ever dating had been pushed out of her head. 

She tries to analyze every moment of their friendship, every thought she has had about him, and every feeling she has had in his presence. How it hurt her heart when Beth broke things off with him, and she sat and watched Steve spend a day wrecking shit in the gym. How worried she gets when he marches out on missions despite his quick healing. 

"Penny for your thoughts," Steve says pulling her hand away from the railing and giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Cheapskate," Darcy replies automatically, and Steve smiles crookedly, his thumb sweeping across the back of her hand. 

"Smartass," Steve says, a wide grin splitting across his face, eyes twinkling in the light from the lounge. Darcy's pulse speeds up, and despite the cold night, she feels warm all over. 

"I can't believe this. That they think we...god, why is this so awkward? I mean, just because they think what they think doesn't mean anything. We're just friends, and there doesn't have to be anything else to it," she says, nervous tension thrumming through her body.

"Right," Steve says slowly, thumb still sweeping across her hand. Darcy bounces up on her toes and presses a quick kiss to his lips. 

"See there isn't—" her words are cut off when Steve presses his lips firmly to hers, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth. She opens for him, and his tongue curls against hers; he threads his hand in her hair, cupping the back of her head. He kisses her until she is breathless and dizzy, and when it ends she can't remember what she was going to say. Whatever it was it isn't true; everything is shifting and changing.

"Good kiss," Darcy finally says, staring at her hands still clutching his Henley. "Really good kiss."  
"Yeah," he says, voice raspy as he pulls her into a tight hug, his chin resting on the top of her head. They don't say anything else; just hold each other until a booming voice calling their names startles them apart. "Thor."

"I don't want to go back in," Darcy says with a frown. She presses her fingertips to her lips. What she wants is for Steve to kiss her again. 

"I know," Steve says and laces their fingers together, giving her hand a little tug, and she reluctantly follows.

She isn't sure about love, but it was one hell of a first kiss. There is no denying the butterflies in her stomach when he smiles down at her as they step through the door.

.....

The Three Stooges

Moe: (a'la a horror-show announcer) It must be three o'clock! (laughs evilly, and then Larry and Curly join in).-- "You Nazty Spy!" [1940]


End file.
